


Ie Data - Or eight ways that the Hyoutei tennis club did not react to Oshitari suddenly developing breasts.

by Qem



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: April Showers 2012, April Showers Challenge, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Gen, Genderbending, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qem/pseuds/Qem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyoutei is immune to many things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ie Data - Or eight ways that the Hyoutei tennis club did not react to Oshitari suddenly developing breasts.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Set post Nationals, Atobe likes to get together with familiar faces.
> 
> This fic does, exactly what the title says.

11:00 Sunday, 2nd of November

 

On the fourth day of the Seigaku/Hyoutei group training, Oshitari awoke with a headache. Not a, ‘Gakuto figured out how to get past the security codes to the wine cellar belonging to Atobe’s parents again’ headache, but one more along the lines of taking a ricochet from one of Ohtori’s moves to the head. Or at least he still had a head - so it must have been a ricochet.

He cautiously sat himself up and swung his feet over the side of the bed before realising that something was not quite right.

“Huh.” Oshitari noted as he glanced down. “Those are new.” With a tilt of his head he decided that they were a bit too small, but they would just have to do for now, as he made his way down to the kitchens.

But really. Hello Kitty slippers. Was that supposed to phase him?

* * *

11:04 Sunday, 2nd of November

 

It was a quiet moment in the refreshment room, but only for a moment, Ryoma mused as Shishido broke the silence.

“Lame.” Ryoma was too used to weird senpai making weird statements, so tried to focus on the more important things, such as finishing off the rather disgusting milk, but the Hyoutei team were even more persistent with spreading their annoying tendencies than his own.

“What?” a low voice drawled out, for longer than strictly necessary, Ryoma felt.

“Lame.”

“They are perfectly serviceable~”

Ryoma’s eyes had idly wandered up, and he choked slightly at what they saw before ducking down.

‘Weird probably contagious senpai’, he thought as he snuck out, trying to block out the “well, maybe they’re a bit too small” as he left.

It’s unknown whether knowing about how Shishido took off his own slippers to pelt Oshitari, telling him he had to look after himself better otherwise Atobe would after his hide as well, not just Seigaku's just after he left would have assisted Ryoma’s piece of mind or not. Probably not.

* * *

11:15 Sunday, 2nd of November

 

Oshitari continued his way from the kitchens on to the court to see that Shishido’s assessment of Atobe as “Freaking out” as being quite accurate, as he discovers Atobe is explaining in detail to the Seigaku captain how Hyoutei does not approve of assassination attempts upon rival teams.

Tezuka looks over Atobe’s shoulder at Atobe for a second, and then lifts his glasses slightly to pinch the bridge of his nose – as if his headache just suddenly took a turn for the worse.

This only served to encourage Atobe with his process of berating. Oshitari could see the thought process now – ‘AHA! Clearly Tezuka has been awed by my prowess and has seen the error of his ways in allowing the hooligan members of Seigaku to run wild. Perhaps now he shall ensure tighter discipline since he now knows he must answer to Atobe of Hyoutei!’

Oshitari smiled. Atobe might predictable in his posturing, but it was one of his strong points – like Shintarou in My Perfect Guard Dog – it made him infinitely more amusing, especially if it was pointed at someone else.

“Really, Atobe” Oshitari drawled, taking advantage of a rare breathing point. “Disembowelment on top of drawing and quartering is really a bit much and having us all go to Germany sounds terribly boring – I hear that Paris in spring is very nice to visit.”

Atobe pauses, glares at Oshitari as if Oshitari’s being up and healthy was done just to spite him, and orders him onto the court, since there was no way that Seigaku’s foul methods would be allowed to bring the pride of Hyoutei down.

Oshitari knows that there's a touch of relief in his eyes, just like Ken in the novel 7 ways to fool an older brother.

* * *

11:31 Sunday, 2nd of November

 

Gakuto slings his racket from hand to hand mulishly sulking, beside a comatose Jirou, as the Seigaku “golden pair”, go up against Ohtori and Hiyoshi. It should be him playing up there now, but he has to wait for Atobe to give the okay and decide who he can play against – and he knows that it will be a while before the old blow hard will be inclined to shut up and move on, since his precious Oshitari was injured.

Stupid Oshitari. He’d been told that the juice had been tampered with, but no, he had to get into some weird shitty rivalry thing with the other counter genius, Fuji.

“Come on, cheer up! How about a soft and squishy hug to make you feel better.” Said a familiar and obnoxious voice, that didn’t wait for an answer.

“Ugh, get off me” Gakuto growled as he struggled to get out of the cling. “This is your fault, traitor! I thought I’d gotten out of this mess, but no, you had to go and faint like a cissy and now I’m back playing doubles with sleeping beauty here.”

“Come on, playing doubles with Jirou can’t be that bad really? He’s a good player with his volleys, and when you focus on the longer higher shots, you make a good combination.” Oshitari tries to reason as he steps over the bench to face Gakuto properly.

Gakuto pauses for a moment, thinking about how the game goes once Jirou’s really woken up. “Well, no,” Gakuto ungraciously allows, “it’s not so bad when we play – but it’s… IF we get to play.” Gakuto grumbled. “I want to be able to actually fricken practice! Stupid lazy genius partners.”

“Why, thank you!”

“Shut up!”

“And it’s 6-4 Seigaku’s favour!”, Kikumaru interrupts with great delight. “Anyone else want to go up against us champions!”

“RIGHT!” Gakuto declares, and drags Oshitari onto the field, not even allowing him to express his condolences to Hiyoshi and Ohtori. “It’s my turn to play!”

* * *

11:59 Sunday, 2nd of November

 

Momoshiro had come out to cheer on Oshi and Eiji, but instead found himself silent in – something – as Oshitari makes almost graceful leap after leap high into the air. It was a perfectly normal game, yes, perfectly normal. Except Oshitari looked a bit floppy when he landed. No, no, not cool, not cool at all, it was just his eyes playing tricks, perfectly ordinary game. Maybe his side looked a bit more pressured than normal, with Kikumaru-senpai having an odd look on his face, but it was a perfectly ordinary game. Well, maybe Jirou’s bouncing meant that it wasn’t that ordinary a game, and he did have some weird markings on his face unless it was Momoshiro’s eyes playing tricks… But the players were perfectly ordinary… Maybe his eyes were playing tricks. Surely that couldn’t be….

“Kabaji?”

“Usu.”

It’s not the first time he’s ever felt relief at Atobe speaking (that would be the time of the great interclub barbeque where Atobe promised to foot the bill), but none the less it’s a rare association.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Momoshiro certainly hoped that it what he could see, otherwise it would be not cool, not cool at all. He’s greatly comforted by the familiar affirmative.

“Usu.”

“He really…”

“Usu.”

Atobe makes a strangled sound, to which Momoshiro feels giddy. It’s not just him, not at all, he doesn’t need to have his eyes tested, “ Shishido. Kabaji. Please go get Jirou to the washroom and make him wash his face.”

“Usu.”

“Thank you Kabaji.” Atobe finishes before he takes Gakuto’s spot on the court, telling him that he was to go up against Fuji and Takashi from Seigaku on court 45.

“Hey watch out!” Ohtori yells, ducking as an angry bar of soap flies through the doorway. Oshitari calculates based on it’s angle and speed that it was probably thrown by Hiyoshi, who tends to favour straight shots that attack the opponent from underneath. “It was a good game!” Ohtori stresses, before he’s knocked off his feet by the bottle of shampoo.

Fortunately for Ohtori, his fall is softly broken by Oshitari, who is happy with his tie/win against Seigaku.

“Thanks!”

“No problem!” Oshitari smiles as he makes his way to the shower, smiling as he listens to Atobe’s grandose schemes to alternatively dominate the doubles and singles matches for with the upcoming Hyoutei High season.

* * *

12:13 Sunday, 2nd of November

 

“Right.” Hiyoshi said blankly.

“But surely you can see how Gakuto’s flirtations are truly reminiscent of Heavenly Basket, with the way he …”

“I don’t read crappy romance novels.”

“What about Furuba! Shi-”

“Correction, I don’t read crappy genres.”

“What about the mystery series –“

Hiyoshi growled and vowed revenge.

* * *

12:59 Sunday, 2nd of November

 

Atobe read the letter handed to him by a nervous looking wait staff. It was short and read quite clearly - I quit.

He sighed, flicked his fingers and began his orders.

“Kabaji. Retrieve Hiyoshi. Have him go to court 12, Gakuto, you're on court 23. Oshitari,” he nods towards the jumble of towels on the bench, “wake up Jirou, no ink, send him to court 23.”

Oshitari thinks carefully about how he can best get Jirou up, with minimum effort.

“Hi, Marui!”

Like a rocket, Jirou fires up into the air – and Oshitari, helpfully tells him that he thinks he was going to court 23.

Jirou doesn’t spare a look back as he races towards the court.

* * *

Epilogue

 

18:04 Sunday, 2nd of November

 

“See, I told you my team was much less likely to notice than yours, Fuji.” Oshitari beams. He’s just had a most entertaining day after all, and he gets to explain it all to Atobe in “great detail” after dinner.

He knew it was totally worth teaching them all code signals, like Poker Face.


End file.
